


all the ways to say I love you

by carolinecrane



Category: Big Eden (2000)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:03:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a million ways to say 'I love you'. With Henry's help, Pike's just starting to learn them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the ways to say I love you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JENGEORGE](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JENGEORGE/gifts).



> For Jennie on her birthday. <3

Merging their lives turns out to be easier than Pike expected. For months they shuttle between one another’s houses, making sure to keep all their own things in their own separate spaces. It’s careful, like learning a dance when they’re still not sure of the steps. But little by little they start to move more in sync, until one day Henry’s toothbrush hangs next to Pike’s just like it’s always been there, and somehow Pike’s worn flannel shirts find their way into Henry’s closet instead of his own.

After that the hardship isn't so much making the drive from the Hart place out to the store every morning; the real hardship is staying away from Henry for any length of time. 

Pike still has the store to run, of course, and Henry spends his days working on his painting. Their lives go on just the same as they’ve always done, only now when Pike locks up the store at the end of the day, he and Francis get back in the truck and drive home.

Henry asked once, if it would be easier for Pike if they lived behind the store. He’d offered to keep Sam’s place as an art studio, to make the drive himself so Pike could keep to the routine he’d settled into so many years ago. 

“The view’s better at your place,” was all Pike had said, but he could tell by Henry’s crooked smile that he knew what Pike really meant was, “Maybe a new routine wouldn’t be so bad.”

And it isn’t bad, not at all. Pike finds that he enjoys the drive home after a day of ringing up orders and listening to the boys bickering about nothing. He likes pulling his truck in next to Henry’s and letting himself into the house, pouring kibble for Francis before he sets about getting supper on the table.

Usually by the time he’s got things simmering the smell’s drawn Henry out of the bedroom they converted into a studio for him. Sometimes Pike turns to reach for a pot or a bowl and finds Henry standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and just watching Pike move around the kitchen.

It still makes Pike blush to find Henry watching him, but Henry’s warm smile always makes up for it. 

Today Henry’s already in the kitchen when Pike gets home, washing paint brushes in the sink and humming to himself. He looks up when he hears the door, answering Francis’ enthusiastic greeting with an affectionate scratch behind the ears before he turns to look at Pike.

“Hey, you,” he says, leaning up for a kiss. “I missed you today.”

Pike still doesn’t know how to answer when Henry says things like that. He doesn’t know if he ever will, but Henry doesn’t seem to mind. So instead of telling Henry the truth – that Pike misses him every minute they’re apart – he just kisses Henry again and then pulls back to tug at the overlarge flannel shirt hanging from his shoulders.

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

Henry hums in answer, and the sound coils warm in the base of Pike’s belly. “It was the first one I grabbed.”

“It’s too big for you,” Pike says, hands pushing under the shirt to ease Henry closer. 

“I like it,” Henry answers. His arms slide around Pike’s shoulders, pressing himself against Pike from his chest to his knees. “Makes me feel like you’re here, even when you’re not.”

Pike tries not to worry. He’s spent his whole life worrying about one thing or another, and now that he’s got everything he wants, it’s hard not to worry that it will all go away again. But he tries not to, because he knows full well that worrying won’t change the future one way or the other. And at times like this, when Henry’s warm against him and they’re safe from the rest of the world, he finds it a little easier to hold the worry at bay.

“I’m here now,” is all he says, arms wrapped tight around Henry and holding on.

Henry smiles up at him, warm and content and maybe, just maybe he’s laughing at Pike a little. “That you are.”

“I should start supper.”

“See, now, that’s the one thing I miss about New York. We can’t just pick up the phone and order Chinese to eat in bed.”

Pike feels himself tense at the words ‘New York’ and tries to relax again. He knows Henry’s not going to run off back to the city without him, but sometimes it’s hard not to worry about that, too. “You want Chinese food?”

“No,” Henry says, and now he’s definitely laughing. “You’re all I want, Pike.”

When he leans up to kiss Pike this time it’s harder, a little more insistent, as though he’s trying to prove a point. Pike thinks he knows what Henry’s not saying, so he kisses Henry back, and he’s not surprised to find when they come up for air that his hands have found their way under Henry’s undershirt to press against warm skin.

“I can learn to cook Chinese food if you want.”

“I like your cooking just fine,” Henry answers. “But I like you even more.”

Pike laughs and lets Henry pull him out of the kitchen, into the living room to stretch out on the couch. “This isn’t Chinese in bed,” he says, but he lifts up to let Henry tug his shirt over his head.

“Close enough.”

Henry grins as Pike laughs again, then he pushes forward for another kiss. Pike’s still not used to this, to warm hands sliding along his skin and hot kisses pressed against his neck. Sometimes he still wants to pinch himself, because he can’t believe that he gets to touch Henry Hart this way. He gets to run his fingers over each new patch of skin Henry reveals as he pulls off their clothes, clumsy in his impatience.

Pike lifts off the couch long enough to let Henry wrestle his jeans down, and when Henry swears his frustration Pike laughs and doesn’t help him. Instead he lies back on the couch and watches Henry shimmy out of his own pants, then he reaches up to drag Henry back down on top of him. 

“So much better than Chinese food,” Henry gasps as Pike finds that spot on his neck that makes him moan and press closer, legs parted to grind down against Pike’s thigh. 

Pike murmurs his agreement against Henry’s neck as he pushes a hand between them, wrapping strong fingers around Henry’s cock. That gets him another moan, deeper this time, and Henry’s forehead drops against Pike’s shoulder as he thrusts into Pike’s hand. Pike’s other hand is on Henry’s ass, fingers splayed against pale skin and rocking Henry into his grip.

He can tell when Henry’s close, knows all the little signs that give him away. He’s memorized every sigh and every shudder, knows the way his own name sounds on Henry’s lips when he comes. He knows all those things and more, and he’s positive he’ll never get used to it.

Maybe he’ll never stop expecting it all to disappear. Maybe it will always seem a little like a dream, the way Henry presses hot, frantic kisses against his mouth and chin and neck. He might never get used to the way Henry’s hands feel on him, or the way his stomach trembles when Henry slides down his body to settle between his legs and wraps his lips around Pike’s cock.

The day might never come when Pike’s used to the feeling of sliding his hand into Henry’s hair, struggling not to grip too tight even though he knows Henry wouldn’t mind. He knows how much Henry likes being the one to make him lose control, to peel back all the layers he’s spent years building up until it’s just them, just Pike and Henry, the way he’s dreamed since high school and never let himself believe he could have.

He knows it’s not all going to disappear one day. He knows, but that doesn’t stop Pike from hanging on to every second, every touch and every sound as though it’s the last piece of Henry he’ll ever get. 

In the end dinner is sandwiches and beers on the couch. They stay curled up together for a long time, talking in soft voices about the details of their days and running hands and mouths over stray bits of skin whenever the mood strikes. But eventually hunger gets the best of them both, and Pike pulls on his jeans long enough to throw together chicken salad from last night’s leftovers. When he carries the tray of food back to the living room, he finds Henry wearing nothing but Pike’s flannel shirt and a smile. Pike swallows and tries not to blush at the sight, manages to set the tray down without spilling anything before Henry pulls him down to kiss him again.

“I love you,” Henry murmurs in that way he has, as though the thought just occurred to him and he can’t come up with a reason not to say it out loud.

“It’s just chicken salad,” Pike answers, and when Henry laughs Pike grins and doesn’t worry that Henry’s thinking about going anywhere without him.


End file.
